Time
by Rhadeya
Summary: A new abnormal found by the London Sanctuary team causes havoc for Declan, Magnus' team and Nikola... Please R&R
1. A Cry in the Night

**Title**: Time  
><strong>Author<strong>: Rhadeya  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T (for now!)  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own it, if I did I'd be working on it LOL!  
><strong>Summary<strong>: A new abnormal at the London Sanctuary causes havoc...  
><strong>Authors Notes<strong>: There is no slash here, not even a hint of it!

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><p>Declan McCrae stood on a small, flat section of roof near the top of the London Sanctuary, staring out at the night and trying to calm himself down. The area where he was standing was similar to the one near the top of the Old City Sanctuary, and had been added when they rebuilt after the super-abnormals attacked. It was a place he went to when life as Head of House became a little too much for him to handle; and this night was one such time. Given the losses they had sustained during the attack, nearly two years ago, he had been given permission to try and put a new team together but most of those he had given a trial to had failed miserably. One such failure had just left the building, aware of the consequences of talking about what he had seen, and the man's arrogant attitude had driven Declan to the roof so that he wouldn't act on his overwhelming impulse to strangle him.<p>

"_Declan."_ The word was spoken softly, almost a whisper on the wind. He jumped to his feet, looking around wildly to see who had spoken.

"I think I'm going mad," he murmured to himself, shaking his head. He knew he was alone on the rooftop, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, perhaps by the person who had called his name.

"_Declan, Dec-lan."_ The voice chanted quietly. Declan growled his frustration, wondering if his hearing voices was a symptom of needing a break from running such a complex place. He shivered as he felt a warm breath against his neck and spun around, seeing nothing behind him.

"Who are you?" he snapped at the sleeping city. "What are you? Where are you?" The last question was almost a plea, a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he wasn't losing his mind.

"_Near, and yet so very far away,"_ the voice replied. Declan could only just make out the words but immediately identified the speaker as female, young and frightened. Turning around in a slow circle, he stopped when he saw a shadow on a nearby roof that looked slightly odd. He waited, hoping that whoever was speaking to him would make themselves known, show them self so that he could offer sanctuary.

"You can come out, I'm not going to hurt you," he told her, speaking directly to the shadow he could see did not belong where it was. He spoke quietly, knowing that if she could make him hear her, she would not need him to shout to hear his words.

"_Help me, Declan, please. They're coming for me and I can't hide forever,"_ she pleaded, her words filled with pain and fear. As he watched, she stepped from the darkness; little more than a shadow herself, he reasoned she must be projecting in order to communicate. Her short dark hair was spiked and ruffled and her pale skin was dirty. Her eyes conveyed what her words could not; terror and anger, sadness and longing.

"How do I find you?" Where are you?" he demanded, knowing this woman was an abnormal he had to help, to save from being used by those who wanted to control her and her gifts.

"_Look to the south, where the land is wild and untamed. Where the fog can chase away the world in the blink of an eye and the earth can swallow you whole,"_ she told him, stretching her semi-transparent arm towards him in a gesture of longing as her voice became fainter.

"I'll find you, I promise," he called out as he watched her fade away into the night. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he hit the speed dial for the Old City Sanctuary, ready to tell Helen what had just happened and request a temporary cover for a few days while he went to find the terrified abnormal who needed his help.

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><p><em>Just a short first chapter to set the scene :)<em>


	2. Heading South

**Author's Notes**: Passage in italics is a dream :) If you like this, please review so I know whether or not to continue :)

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><p>Declan turned sharply into the car park at the Two Bridges Hotel on Dartmoor, the gravel beneath his tyres flying in all directions as he braked hard. He grabbed the small army duffel from the front seat and got out of the slightly battered black Jeep Cherokee, slamming the door behind him and setting the alarm with a casual flick of his wrist over his shoulder. He strode purposefully into the reception area of the small hotel and greeted the young woman seated behind the desk. Her none too subtle appraisal of him boosted his ego a little but his response was a simple smile, letting her know he wasn't interested. He inclined his head in thanks as she gave him his room key and headed for the stairs, feeling far too wired from the drive down to take the elevator. He took the stairs two at a time, glad of the physical exertion which helped him keep his mind off the abnormal who had begged him for help. Letting himself into his room, he dropped his bag onto the double bed and headed into the bathroom. He slashed some water on his face to freshen up and stopped, wondering how on earth he was going to find the girl now he was here. Having been to Dartmoor many times, he was well aware of just how much relatively unoccupied space he would have to cover and how dangerous a place it could be. His hands curled into fists as he realised he was helpless at the moment, unable to find what he was looking for and therefore unable to help or protect her if need be. He wondered for a moment if she needed darkness to project her image; perhaps she was nocturnal and slumbered during the daylight hours, or perhaps she controlled shadows.<p>

"Or perhaps those hunting her rest at night and it's the only time she is safe to project?" he asked himself quietly, shaking his head and angry he didn't yet know the answers to his many questions. Knowing the answers were not going to come to him just yet, and that he would probably have to wait until after dark before he could make any progress, he stretched out on the bed and made himself comfortable. _"Might as well get a few hours kip before it's time to start doing some work,"_ he thought to himself, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift, relaxing himself so he would fall into a deep, dream filled sleep.

_Fog swirled around him, thick and oppressive, and he slowed his frantic pace, knowing full well that if he put a foot wrong out here on the moors, he'd never be seen again. The moors could be deadly in good weather, but when the weather turned bad, the danger increased ten-fold. The fog had come out of nowhere, as it had on several of his other visits in the past, and the darkening sky meant he was out of time. He had to find some safe shelter before night set in; the dangers of falling into a crevice or bog were greater in the dark or fog, and much more so when the two combined. Unable to see clearly in the failing light, his foot slipped on an uneven rock and he fell forward, losing his balance and tumbling heavily to the ground. He curled as he fell, twisting himself around so that he landed on his side, the air knocked out of his lungs upon impact. In the silence of the dusk, as he lay still, trying to catch his breath, he heard the soft sound of paws against the rocks nearby. Low growls reached his ears, telling him he was surrounded by a number of large animals, possibly cougars or something similar. The local legends held many tales of large felines, most thought to have been exotic pets released by, or having escaped, their owners in the 70's and 80's. The fog swirled in front of him, revealing the golden eyes of a lithe panther, moments before it lunched for his throat._

Declan jerked awake, wiping the sweat from his forehead with one shaking hand, while the other rubbed his neck. He could still feel the teeth that had sunk into his flesh and he shivered, getting up off the bed and drawing a shuddering breath. A glance out of the window told him that night had fallen while he had been asleep and he knew it was time to get ready to make a move. He hoped that the abnormal would visit again, perhaps even give him more specific directions on where she was hiding. Stripping off his cargo pants and t-shirt, he padded silently to the bathroom and turned on the shower, know it would wake him sufficiently for the coming night's activities. He stepped beneath the hot water, letting it soothe his ragged nerves and ease his aching muscles. For several minutes he just stood beneath the torrent of scalding water, relaxing in a way he had not done for many years. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of lavender and roses that seemed to surround him, permeating his senses and clouding his mind.

"_Declan,"_ the whisper sounded closer this time, almost as if she were in the same room as him.

"I can hear you," he told her, revelling in the intoxicating aroma surrounding him. "I'm close now, but I need you to tell me where you are. There's a lot of ground to cover and I don't want to make any mistakes." Eyes closed and palms flat against the cold tiles, he stood still and waited for her to reply.

"_Open your eyes, Declan, I'm right here,"_ her breath caressed the back of his neck as she spoke, sending a shiver down his spine. He turned slowly, certain he was still dreaming and drew in a sharp breath as he saw her standing naked in the shower with him. She reached out to touch him, her cool fingertips brushing lightly against his hot skin as she ran her hands down his chest. He gasped and tried to step away but her scent worked its way deeper into him, trapping him there with her as she brushed her lips to his. Sensation burst through him, his blood racing like fire through his veins as desire swamped him, threatening to overwhelm him so swiftly that he jerked himself away from her.

"_I'm close Declan, so close, only a few miles away. You have my scent now, it will lead you to me_," she smiled as she spoke and his desire burnt in his chest. _"Look to the north, where Brook, Tor and Gorge meet. You will find me there, one way or another."_ She stepped towards him and slipped one hand behind his head, stopping him from pulling away as she raised her lips to his. Desire shot through him again as she deepened her kiss and he responded, the feelings so strong that thought itself became impossible.

When thought became possible again, he opened his eyes and swallowed hard, seeing the hotel bathroom as empty as it had been when he arrived. Shaking his head in disgust at his weakness, he finished his shower and collected the tray of dinner he had ordered earlier. He ate slowly, his appetite dampened, his spirit subdued. He placed the tray back outside his room and locked the door, knowing he would only get himself killed if he tried to go out in the dark to find her. A quick call to Helen did nothing to raise his spirits, though he kept the details of the latest projection to himself. Restless and mildly depressed, Declan climbed into bed and turned out the light, willing a dreamless sleep to take him. He slipped quickly into sleep, where his body played out what his mind would never allow it to do with the mysterious abnormal, surrounded by lavender and roses.


	3. Stick to the Road

**Author's Notes**: A fairly short chapter I'm afraid, but puts the story nicely where I want it to be Please review if you want me to continue

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><p>The first rays of sunlight lit up the horizon as the sun began to rise, the greys of dawn giving way to vibrant colour across the moor. Declan McCrae, head of the London Sanctuary, drove his battered Jeep hard, swinging round the twists and turns of the narrow lanes which criss-crossed the wild areas of the moor. Sleep had been fleeting, filled with erotic dreams that left him feeling more exhausted than when he had gone to bed. Wide awake at four in the morning, he made sure everything was ready and was out of the hotel as soon as the sky began to lighten. His temper was frayed and a headache pounded inside his skull, making him reckless as he raced across the moor towards an area known as Steeperton. The cryptic remark about "<em>where Brook, Tor and Gorge meet" <em>could only mean one place from where he was staying, and Steeperton Tor was well known to him from his military days. He intimately knew the small area at the base of the Tor, where the Gorge passed by it and the Brook flowed into the Gorge. Braking hard, he pulled the Jeep into a field gateway and turned off the engine. The day had dawned bright and clear, perfect for him to scout the area where he suspected the abnormal was hiding. Getting out of the vehicle, he slipped on his rucksack and made sure his pistol was secured in the holster strapped to his thigh. Taking a deep breath, he climbed over the gate near the hinges, noting that the other end was tied with baler twine and would be impossible to open in an emergency. _"Let's hope there's no-one chasing when we get back here,"_ he thought wryly, knowing that other gates would be secured in exactly the same way as this one. Wondering briefly what he was about to get himself into, he started off across the small field, heading for the fence and the wild moor beyond it, a mile of rugged country that could only be traversed on foot ahead of him.

A flash of movement, caught from the corner of his eye, startled Declan as he hiked towards his destination. He could see the conical mound of Steeperton Tor in the distance, still well over half a mile away from him, and the ground under foot was treacherous. Rain over night had filled the brook he was following, and the excess had seeped into the dry moor, revitalising the marshy ground and bogs. One wrong step could put him into the middle of any of the numerous marshes or bogs that littered the moor, often looking like solid ground until you stepped into one. He kept his balance as the movement startled him, managing to stay on the rocky ground he knew was safe in this area. He paused for a moment, looking around to try and identify what it was he had seen, but nothing was visible in the surrounding area. A line from an old movie flashed into his head and he laughed, thinking of the werewolf movie from which the line had originated. _"Stick to the roads,"_ the old man had said in the movie, speaking to two young Americans on the Yorkshire Moors as they left a local pub in the dead of night. Declan laughed again, knowing that werewolf stories didn't apply to the moor he was on, but large feline sightings did. He wondered for a moment if the movement he'd seen was one such large animal, but dismissed any danger from it, believing that it would prefer to remain out his way if it could.

A gentle breeze caressed his face, cooling him, and carrying on it the scent of lavender and roses, the scent which had haunted his fitful dreams all night. He turned into the wind, he scent stronger now, and started out in a new direction, following his nose and praying silently that he was right. As he moved onwards, keeping to the rocks for safety, the scent began to change and he caught another smell on the wind. _**Blood**_. Lots of blood, mixed with the abnormal's scent, meaning she was near and bleeding. He picked up his pace, worried now that she could be dying, recalling her final words the night before _"you'll find me there, one way or another"_. She knew she was in danger, possibly dying, and had warned him of it, trying to prepare him for what he might find when he got to her. Careless of his footing, he stepped onto a patch of ground which appeared solid but wasn't, and his foot sank into the marsh, overbalancing him. He rolled as he fell, his training keeping him from falling into the main bog, but his side took the impact of his fall, knocking the air from his lungs and stunning him momentarily. As he tried to force air into his aching body, he again caught movement in his peripheral vision and froze. Several feet away from him, laying half under a small rocky outcrop, lay the abnormal he had been searching for. She was unconscious and bleeding from several gashes to her bare arms and legs. A tattered shift covered her body, her skin grey from weeks, if not months, of grime. Her short dark hair was ruffled and blood trailed down her face, indicating she had a head wound, to add to the other obvious injuries. Declan started to reach for her and froze again, the movement he'd seen solidifying into several large panthers, who growled a warning. Suddenly he saw one shift into a stocky man, who stood over the abnormal and shook his head, telling Declan quite plainly that he would not give up his prize to the human. Ever.

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><p><em>Please review to let me know how you think it's going so far<em>


	4. Special

**Author's Notes: **this one does seem to be taking hold of me a little Please let me know how I'm doing so far by reviewing :) Sorry for the odd characters but FF is not letting me put proper paragraphs breaks in :(

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><p><em>Old City Sanctuary – just past midnight<em>

Helen Magnus looked at the clock again, seeing the antique face read just after midnight, and sighed. She had spoken to Declan just a few hours before but her senses told her there was trouble; that he was in trouble and needed their help. Unfortunately, until he contacted her to let her know the status of the mystery abnormal, she couldn't do anything. She didn't even know where he was; he had been cagey and dismissive when she had last spoken to him. He blamed a lack of sleep but something told her that the connection between Declan and the girl was strong, and would only get stronger once they actually met. It concerned her but also amused her, and she wondered again about the last projection. Recalling what he said, and reading between the lines to what he hadn't, she wondered just where Declan had been when the girl made contact. She knew what he had been through in his past, the pain he'd suffered in abortive relationships that were destroyed through no fault of his. His tone had suggested to her that the connection he had with the girl, while not yet physical, was already becoming deeply emotional. She knew he would never jeopardise his position as Head of House in London, nor any part of the Sanctuary network, but perhaps this girl would be able to give him what he had been unable to get from his own kind. Tucking her legs beneath her, she wriggled deeper into her chair to get comfortable and picked up her book, content to keep her private vigil until Declan contacted them again.

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_Dartmoor – 8am_

Declan drew his hand back, wary of the creatures which surrounded him, while keeping his eyes on the unconscious girl a few feet away. The one who had shifted into human form, seemingly the leader, knelt beside the girl and licked the blood from her face. Declan had to fight hard to clamp down on the sudden nausea that washed over him at the creature's actions, but his anger helped him.

"Why are you doing this? Who is she to you?" he demanded, wondering how far he would get if he managed to grab the girl and run.

"She ours, she soon be us," the leader replied haltingly, not used to speaking this language.

"What do you mean, she will soon be you? Do you mean she will turn into one of you?"

"Yes, she be one us soon," the leader replied, stroking the girl's hair.

"Why? Because of the bites?"

"Yes, we bite, she turn," the creature was emphatic on this point.

"She won't turn though," Declan had to try and make them see their mistake.

"Why? Why she not turn?" the leader demanded angrily, causing his companions to growl menacingly.

"Because she's not human," Declan replied, hoping the truth would be enough to free them both.

"What do you mean? She is human..."

"No, she's not. She may look it, she may even taste it," he shuddered slightly in disgust as he spoke. "But she's not human and she won't change."

"You lie!" the leader retorted, his eyes filled with fury as he began to shift back into his feline form.

"No, I don't. Look, if she was human and starting the transformation to become one of you, she'd be burning up with fever right now, yes?" Declan asked desperately, hoping his talks with Henry about changes and the like would prove invaluable now.

"Yes."

"Then why isn't she?" Declan demanded, watching as the leader phased back to his human form and knelt by the girl. He forced himself to remain still as the shifter checked her brown for fever, and then her pulse. He looked up at Declan then, a great sadness in his eyes as he silently communicated both his mistake and his guilt.

"Can you save her?" the shifter asked, his voice quiet with horror as he realised what she was.

"I hope so," Declan replied, praying silently that he could.

"Then take her and go. She is special. Save her!"

"I'll try," Declan promised, watching as the leader shifted back into a large black panther. The felines backed away from the girl and Declan slowly got to his feet, covering the distance to the girl in a few steps. Checking her pulse, he found it weak and thready; her skin was almost icy to the touch and she didn't stir when he lifted her into his arms. With a nod of acknowledgement to the panthers, Declan began the hike back to his Jeep, hoping he could get the girl to the safety of the Sanctuary in time.

##

Declan climbed into the back to the Jeep and lifted the blanket covering the abnormal. The bandages he had applied when they reached the Jeep were soaked with blood, but he was relieved to see the bleeding was heavily reduced when he changed the dressings. He knew there was a good possibility she had internal injuries, but there was no way to check for them, especially not in the back of a Jeep on a quiet country road in Somerset. He was checking her ribs for signs of fracture when he heard her breathing change and looked up to see her eyes were open. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she watched him checking her injuries, especially as he was doing so with her ragged clothing still in place.

"Wouldn't that be easier without this thing?" she asked softly, weakly pulling at the torn and filthy shift she wore. She smothered the laugher which bubbled up inside her as he blushed, taking his hands away and re-covering her with the rough blanket. "So you're not going to take advantage of my weakened state?"

"No!" he answered sharply, appalled by her question. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her, wondering who had taken advantage of her as he noticed the hint of bruising on her neck. He was surprised at the sudden rush of fury that swept through him at the thought of someone hurting her, as his mind quickly went through all the things which could have happened to her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you would do so in a way that would hurt me," she apologized, her voice growing weaker as the effort to remain awake sapped her energy.

"I know," he acquiesced, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "We're on our way back to the Sanctuary now, where you'll get treatment and be safe."

"My name is Morwenna," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Thank you, Amātus." He stared at her in shock for a moment, as his tired mind recognized the Latin word she had used, and watched her smile again as her eyes closed and she lost consciousness again.

"Morwena," he whispered to himself as he slipped back into the driver's seat and started the engine. The battered Jeep sprang instantly to life and he carefully eased the vehicle back onto the narrow country lane, putting his foot down as soon as they hit the motorway. He knew without a doubt that he had to get her back to London as quickly as possible, and there were a lot of questions that needed answers when she had recovered from her ordeal. As the miles raced by, her scent permeated his senses and he recalled in vivid detail every moment of the dreams he's had the previous night, while the object of them lay peacefully on the back seat of his Jeep, just a few feet away.

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><p><em>I know, it's still a little slow but it's gonna get a whole lot 'faster' real soon ;-)<em>


	5. Clean Up

**Author's Notes**: Just in case it comes through in this chapter, I've been writing this whole thing while listening to "Lemonade Mouth – Determinate" and "Take That – The Flood" on repeat LOL As before, having to use ## to determine paragraph breaks due to formating issues here :(

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><p>Declan McCrae stood in the infirmary of the London Sanctuary House and tried his best to control his temper, determined not to snap at his meagre staff, who were currently arguing with him about their newest visitor. The current argument had to do with whether they treated her injuries before or after they cleaned her up, and who was going to have the chore of cleaning her up. Sasha, his current acting second-in-command, was trying to demand that she be the one to clean up the female abnormal, Morwenna, given that she was the only woman on the staff. Declan had said he would do it, but his team seemed to think that such a thing was beneath him, given his position, and had pretty much ignored his suggestion. Their petty sniping at each other was grating on his nerves, as was their apparent disregard for his wishes, and he finally snapped.<p>

"I will be cleaning her up!" he said, his voice dangerously quiet. All arguments around him ceased as the others looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror, still thinking such jobs were beneath him. "I am the only person here that she knows..." he continued, clenching his fists as Sasha interrupted.

"But boss, I'm the only woman here, I should do it."

"As I was saying," Declan snapped, silencing Sasha with a glare. "I am the only person here she knows and I will NOT allow her to be put into a frightening situation by any of you!"

"But.." Sasha started to say, stopping when Declan held up his hand.

"No buts!" he roared, finally losing his temper. "I will not risk having her waking up with one of you cleaning her up and thinking we are taking advantage of her inability to fight back!"

"Surely she wouldn't think that if I were..." Sasha protested, seeing the looks the others were giving Declan.

"Enough! Out, all of you!" he snapped, ignoring the looks that his staff were giving him. They could think what they liked but he was not about to break his word and allow her to think anyone would ever be allowed to take advantage of her again.

##

Declan undid the laces on his combat boots and slipped them off, his socks following swiftly behind, until he was barefoot in the infirmary. Ignoring the fact that his stunned staff had not left the room, he moved to the exam table where Morwenna lay unconscious and grabbed a handful of the ragged slip she wore. A none too gentle tug was all that was needed for the strained fabric to give way and he tore the filthy garment from her unconscious body, throwing it to the floor in disgust. Lifting her naked body into his arms, despite the surprised gasps from behind him, he strode purposefully down the infirmary to the decontamination shower at the end of the room and reached out to turn on the water. The decon shower could be set to many things, including using normal water and he set the temperature up reasonably high. Stepping into the cubicle, he left the door open so that his staff could see he was doing nothing inappropriate with the abnormal, and grabbed the soap. Placing her feet on the ground, he leant her back against the cool tiles of the wall behind her and used one hand at her waist to keep her in place, while he ran the soap over her stomach. Placing the bar back into its holder, he rubbed the area he had soaped, working up a good lather to try and get rid of the grime. As he was working on cleaning up her stomach, he realised her breathing had changed and looked up at her, seeing she had woken, just as he had feared she would. She looked at him steadily, no fear in her gaze, as he paused his ministrations.

"Do you want to do this yourself?" he asked, hoping secretly that she'd say no.

"I would be unable to hold myself upright and clean at the same time," she told him, her voice clearer than it had been during her brief conscious spell in the Jeep. Declan knew without looking that her words had carried down the empty infirmary to the people still standing at the other end.

"Would you like me to get someone else to do this for you? Another female perhaps?" he had to ask, had to know whether she trusted him.

"No," her reply was emphatic. "I trust you; you gave me your word you would not try to take advantage of me."

"And I stand by that promise," he replied, secretly pleased by her reply. Taking the soap again, he used both hands to get a good lather on his hands and started back onto her stomach.

##

His wet cargo pants and t-shirt clung to his soaked skin, accentuating the curve of his shoulders and the muscles in his chest which rippled as he worked. The wet t-shirt clearly highlighted his erect nipples and the cargo pants did little to hide the erection beginning to form as he worked the soap across her slightly curved stomach and ample hips. He let the water wash away the soap suds, helping them along with a flick of his hand and gasped, seeing the bruising clearing displayed now the dirt had been removed. Old scars could just be seen beneath the purple and yellow skin, including what looked suspiciously like bite marks; human bite marks. He growled in disgust, furious with however had hurt her in this manner, and looked up when she placed her hand lightly on his.

"All in good time," was her cryptic comment before she released his hand and leant back against the wall. He nodded once in agreement, turning back to the task at hand and trying to control the emotions coursing through his body. Her scent wrapped around him, blocking out the rest of the world until it seemed as though they were the only ones who existed. Soaping his hands once more, he moved up to her chest, his hands gentle but firm as he ran them over her ample breasts, her nipples hardening instantly at his touch. Keeping eye contract with her as he worked, he struggled to resist the urge to lower his lips to her erect nipples, even though they urgently demanded his attention. His desire rose, the steam of the shower tickling his nose as he breathed in deeply, her scent intoxicating him again.

"Stop it," he growled at her, fighting the rising lust that surged through him, knowing damn well that if he was having trouble washing her breasts, he'd never be able to cope when he had to go lower.

"Spoil sport," she laughed, pouting a little as a smirk tugged at her lips. The scent lessened and the world rushed back in around him, including the feeling of having several sets of eyes watching them.

"Just enjoy the sensations," she murmured softly, her lips barely moving, her voice carrying no further than his ears.

##

A frustrated grunt was her only reply and she laughed again, the sound reminding him of raindrops tinkling onto crystal. Her scent wrapped around him once more and he struggled to fight its effects, knowing he would be in for it if he lost control and did something he would regret later. His mind clouded and he fought harder; fought against the urge to strip off his wet clothes and slid into her willing body, fusing them together until they didn't know where one ended and the other began. While she was a willing participant, to him it would be no different to rape to take her in her current condition, and he would never cross that line. As if reading his turbulent thoughts, she allowed the scent to diminish and placed her hands flat against the tiles behind her in temporary surrender. Declan groaned, seeing the movement for exactly what it was; a temporary suspension of action in their own private little lust war, but with it the promise that, once she felt he would accept her advances, she would pick up where they were leaving off now. One thing he knew for sure, life was about to get a whole lot more interesting in the London Sanctuary.

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><p><em>please review to let me know how I'm doing :)<em>


	6. Confession

**Author's Note**: OK, so the battle lines are drawn between Declan and Morwenna. Yes, I'm sorry, I am going to make him suffer for quite some time before the issue is resolved, one way or another LOL Same as before with the ## to determine paragraph breaks

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><p>Declan sat in his office at the London Sanctuary House and sighed, his hand laid on the phone receiver as he paused to organise his thought before calling Helen to give them an update. He took several deep breaths, trying to figure out what to say to Helen about their newest guest, and trying to suppress the memories of everything he would have to hide from her. The memories rose to the forefront once more and he gritted his teeth, fighting the urges the momeories brought with them. He could still feel every inch of her pliant body, could still see her reaction to his touch as he cleaned off months of dirt and grime. His fingers itched to run over her again, to tease her nipples before dipping lower and exploring her inviting depths. The memory of her scent wove through him, teasing and tempting him and he groaned, trying to find a comfortable position in his chair. His erection hardened further, straining against the dry cargo pants he had thrown on after the clean up had finished, his body demanding he satisfy its need to sate itself with the new abnormal. Groaning softly, he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial to the Old City Sanctuary.<p>

##

"So, how is our new guest?" Helen asked, her curiosity piqued by the stress evident in Declan's voice. She wondered just what had happened between him and the new abnormal since she had spoken to him last.

"She's resting," he replied, forcing the fingers of his left hand, currently clenched into a fist, to relax. "When I found her, there was a group of panther shifters with her. They'd bitten her, thinking she was human, and their poison was killing her."

"Really? That is interesting. We may have to deal with them at some point," Helen told him, pausing to let him continue his report.

"Indeed we may," he agreed. "I managed to get her stabilised with the anti-toxin Henry gave me and hauled ass back here. Sasha says her wounds should heal completely but she'll bear the scars of them. As Wena so succinctly put it, they're not the first she's had."

"Wena? Is that her name?" Helen noted the name on the pad laid on the desk in front of her.

"Her full name is Morwenna, but she insists I call her Wena and frankly, it's easier than arguing with her," he supplied, thinking of the way her eyes had flashed dangerously when he had tried to refuse her request.

"Strong willed then?" Helen laughed, imagining just how many clashes of will were ahead for Declan and Wena.

"Er, yeah, you can say that again," he agreed, a laugh escaping him before his mood sobered and he sighed. "I got her cleaned up and was horrified to find just how many scars she bears. She is covered in bruises, some weeks old and others pretty fresh."

"You cleaned her up?" the question was loaded; Helen wanted to delve deeper into the connection between her friend and their new guest.

"Yes Helen, I cleaned her up. When we were heading back to London, I had to pull over and change her dressings. She woke while I was doing them and asked me outright if I was going to take advantage of her, against her will! The very thought of that made me feel physically sick!" he admitted, his anger and disgust evident in his voice.

"Christ Declan, I'm sorry," Helen soothed, knowing his history well enough to know what caused such a violent reaction.

"I promised her I wasn't going to take advantage of her, and nor was I going to let anyone else do so either. Needless to say, my staff disagreed with my decision to be the one to do the clean up, thinking it either inappropriate or beneath me," he continued, his anger cooling somewhat, but continuing to simmer beneath the surface.

"I gather you tried to explain your reasons?" Helen asked, catching the undertones in his voice.

"I did and they ignored me, so I over-rode their objections and did it anyway," he admitted, his exhale ending in a sigh. Trying to organise his scattered thoughts, he didn't notice the silence at the other end of the line as Helen waited for his to continue. "God, Helen, we need to find out what the hell she is, and fast," he choked out, tears stringing his eyes as sobs gathered in his chest.

"What happened, Declan?" she pressed gently, his voice giving her a good indication of his current state of mind.

"I can't... I want..." he whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought for control.

"Declan, tell me what happened," she encouraged, certain now that he needed to get whatever was bothering off his chest before it consumed him.

"When I'm with her, it's like the rest of the world ceases to exist. Her scent, it's like a drug, it's intoxicating. All I want to do when I'm near her is take her, make love with her, satisfy the overwhelming lust and desire I feel for her. Hell, when I was cleaning her up and she came round, she bloody encouraged me. I came so close to just tearing off my clothes and taking her right there, hard, against the wall. She could barely even stand up by herself for God's sake!" he words poured out of him, his guilty admission torn from him as the tears flowed freely.

"Oh, Declan," her reply was soft, full of compassion and understanding.

"The worst thing is she seems to want me as much as I want her! God damn the rules, Helen," he chewed out, angry with himself for his admission.

"There's no rule against a romantic liaison, Declan," she reminded him.

"I know! But you know full well why I can't ever let this happen, Helen. You know what happened with Claire," he spat out, his self loathing rising inside him again as his mind flashed back to that fateful day.

"Is she fit to travel?" Helen demanded, her voice steely. She had to snap him out of the spiral of self loathing and self recrimination he was caught in, and the best way she knew to do that was to get him focused on something else. Her strategy worked.

"In a few days, yes," he confirmed, knowing the girl would need a few days recovery before getting on a plane.

"Good. Then, as soon as she is able, you will bring her here and we will take charge of her for you," Helen told him, her tone brooking no argument.

"OK," he acquiesced, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

##

Setting the phone receiver back into its cradle, Declan leant back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. He let the tears come, sobbing quietly in his lonely office. As the full reality of what he had just agreed to hit him, the tears flowed harder and the sobs became stronger, overwhelming him. The very thought of letting Wena out of his sight made his chest tighten, his breathing laboured as he struggled to think of being away from her now he had found her. He realised they had a deep emotional connection, but he knew that if he didn't let her go, he would end up hurting her, just as he had hurt Claire, and that was an unacceptable situation for him. Shaking his head, he left his office and padded silently down towards his bedroom, not seeing the heavier than normal shadow in the corner of the room. Stripping off, he slipped into bed and let his guilt and grief overwhelm him again, crying until he exhausted himself and fell into a deep, dream filled sleep, while Wena watched over him from the shadows.

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><p>As always, please review :)<p> 


	7. Betrayal

**Author's Note**: As before, ## used for paragraph breaks. The passge in italics is the flashback of their conversation :) And yes, lots of angst, with much more to come :)

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><p>Declan sat in the driver's seat of his battered Jeep and sighed inwardly, the silence permeating the vehicle depressing him as they waited in the traffic queue to get into Heathrow Airport. Wena sat less than two feet away in the passenger seat, and hadn't said a word since they had left the Sanctuary. In fact, she hadn't said much for the past twenty four hours, ever since Declan had informed her she was being transferred to the Old City Sanctuary for evaluation. The conversation hadn't been a pleasant one, Declan recalled with a grimace.<p>

"_What the hell do you mean, I'm being transferred?" she demanded, the look of shock and hurt on her face causing Declan's heart to constrict._

"_Helen wants to evaluate you, see if we can find out the extent of your powers," He replied, trying to calm her. The pain and betrayal in her eyes almost made him call the whole thing off right there but he knew that if she stayed, he'd end up hurting her and he wasn't about to let that happen._

"_Evaluate? You mean poke and prod me, run experiments to find out what I am? You bastard, Declan! You're letting them make me into a bloody lab rat!" she snarled, her pain making her angry. "Why the hell did you help me?"_

"_I helped you because you were dying!" he snapped back, his insides twisting in pain._

"_Well, I wish I'd never asked you for help! I wish you'd let me die out there!" the words were out of her mouth before she had time to think, but her feelings of betrayal fuelled her anger. The look on his face was worse than if she had stabbed him and twisted the knife in his guts, but she ignored it as she turned on her heel and stormed off._

_##_

Declan shook his head, the pain still raw from her reckless words. That pain, however, paled into insignificance beside the feelings of loss he was fighting with at the thought of her not being around anymore. And that fact that they were parting ways with so much left unresolved and words spoken in anger was making him feel worse. What worried him the most was the fact that since he had collected her from her room earlier in the morning, she had been lethargic and docile. Breakfast had been eaten in silence and she had meekly accepted his instructions about what would happen when they reached the airport. He was worried that she felt he had betrayed her, and in truth, he felt as if he had done exactly that by sending her away. For the hundredth time, he berated himself for his inability to cope with the situation, and worried about how Helen would view the mess he'd gotten into. Would she think him weak? Would she want to replace him as Head of House in London because he couldn't handle a difficult situation? _"No point dwelling on it,"_ he thought, pushing such worries from his mind for the time being. The traffic began moving again and he focused on the task at hand, burying his fears until a time when he could look over them properly.

##

Declan's right hand, currently wrapped around Wena's left upper arm, tingled where his fingertips touched her bare skin. Dressed in jeans donated by Sasha and one of his faded Pink Floyd concert t-shirts, she looked just like any other passenger; to any observer, she looked like another human woman, waiting to catch a flight. Even her tattoos would not be seen as particularly unusual; twin dragons, one on each arm, encircled her arm from her hand to her shoulder in brown ink. Only her eyes would give the lie to that image; they changed colour depending on her mood, and were currently almost black. His tight grip on her arm ruined the effect as well, but he wasn't about to let her out of his sight, or his grasp, until they were safely on their plane. As they entered the customs area, he steered her to an empty area marked "Private Passengers" and placed his bag onto the conveyor. As he expected it would, the alarm started sounding the moment the scanner picked up the multiple weapons in his bag. The alarms shrilly announced his holstered pistol when he walked through the person scanner and people stopped to stare as security moved towards him. They searched him, removing his pistol and waited for the head of security to arrive, all the while being stared at by passengers who'd never seen someone stopped for carrying a gun before. Ryan Townsend, head of security at Heathrow airport, walked onto the scene and stopped, holding his hand out imperiously for Declan's passport. Without a word, he handed the passport back and motioned to his colleagues to let them proceed, personally handing Declan his gun and winking slyly.

"Have a pleasant trip, Mr McCrae," he said, his tone amused. "And say hello to Helen for me." Declan smiled and nodded, taking his grip on Wena's arm once more and moving them towards the passengers lounge. He ignored the look Ryan gave him as they moved away, not wanting to try and explain the situation at that time.

##

Sitting in the passenger lounge while they waited for their flight, Declan couldn't help feeling self conscious as people stared at them. A lot of those staring were people going through customs when they had, and obviously word had spread through the people gathered as many more were staring at them. From the huge expanse of window that ran down one side of the area, he could see one of Helen's sleek black jets taxiing onto the area where they would embark. Spotting one of the crew at the exit door, he tugged Wena to her feet and started them moving.

"Why don't you just put cuffs on me?" she snipped at him angrily. "It would certainly enforce the image of my being a prisoner that you seem to be going for today."

"You're not a bloody prisoner!" he snapped back, his temper frayed.

"Could have fooled me," she spat out, ignoring the curious stares as people overheard their conversation.

"Keep this shit up and I will have you bound and gagged, understand?" he threatened, hearing several horrified gasps as others heard his threat.

"You're no different from them, Declan," she declared quietly, yanking her arm from his bruising grasp. Head high and back straight, she marched towards the exit door, ignoring his muttered curses. They almost ran down the metal steps and out onto the tarmac of the embarkation area where their plane waited. A few feet from the steps which lead up into the plane, Declan suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loss again, a split second before Wena bolted.

##

She ran as if the very Hounds of Hell were after her, back towards the perceived safety of the passenger terminal they had recently exited. She heard him behind her, his boots pounding against the tarmac as he chased after her and tried to catch up. She tried to call on her reserves of energy, which would help her outrun her pursuer, and cursed when she realised she hadn't had enough time to replenish what she'd lost during her months on the run. Her damaged legs ached, the panther bites burning and the stitches straining; her lungs gasped for breath, adrenaline coursing through her as she neared her goal. _"Only a few more feet," _she thought to herself, chanting the words like a mantra to keep her going. A sharp pain in her side, as one of the sets of stitches broke, caused her to stumble and she knew she had lost, as she felt Declan's hands on her shoulders. Losing her balance, they both pitched forward, falling to the tarmac and rolling to break their fall. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, the rolling ended with Declan straddling her, one hand pressed against her throat while the other held his pistol to her forehead. She hissed at him, her eyes red with fury and her canines elongating, similar to a vampire's fangs and he pressed harder against her throat until she stopped struggling against him.

"Try that again, and I'll put a bullet into your brain, got it?" he snarled, breathing heavily. "You wanted cuffs, cos you said you felt like a prisoner? Well, guess what? You get your wish." Jumping to his feet, he hauled her to her feet and holstered his pistol, turning her around and roughly pulling her arms behind her back as he bound her hands together.

"Bastard," she spat out, her 'fangs' receding and her eyes turning back to black. Turning to look him, with a sneer on her face, she aimed a kick to his groin which he only just avoided and he grabbed her arm again in a vice-like grip.

##

He walked her back to the plane, as hundreds of passengers looked on in shock and horror from the passenger lounge. Marching her up the steps and into the plane, he deposited her into one of the leather seats and motioned for the attendant to close the hatch, cutting off any possible escape routes. Flicking his knife out, he cut the bounds holding her hands and walked towards the rear of the plane, where he knew a first aid kit was located. Carrying the box back, he knelt beside her and reached out to lift her t-shirt so he could dress her broken stitches, but paused when she flinched away from him.

"I need to dress your wound. Your stitches have broken," he explained, his voice calm and his tone gentle.

"I'll do it," she replied, reaching out for the bandage but refusing to meet his gaze.

"It would be easier if I did it," he told her, reaching out towards her again.

"I said, I'll do it. You will never touch me again, understand?" she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. He could see the hurt in her eyes; his betrayal of her trust was clear and his heart constricted as he realised he had broken his promise.

"Wena..." he started, shutting up at the look she shot him.

"Go to Hell," she spat, grabbing the bandage. Lifting her bloody t-shirt, she deftly applied the dressing and held it in place with several strips of surgical tape. "You're no different to them," she sighed, her voice full of pain as tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she made it clear she wasn't going to talk any further and Declan sighed, taking the seat opposite her.

##

He watched her silently, as the tears eventually dried up and her breathing even out and slowed, indicating she had fallen asleep. His entire body trembled with stress, both from her flight and the ensuing chase, and from their argument afterwards. His chest hurt as he recalled the pain and betrayal in her eyes, caused by his broken promise, and hated himself for doing the one thing he had been afraid he'd do; hurt her. _"Still, it solves the problem,"_ his logical side told him. _"She's not going to keep trying to seduce you now, is she?"_ the thought came, and with it came the pain. _"If this is what I wanted, why the hell does it hurt so much now I've got it?"_ he demanded of himself silently, unable to find the answer to the most important question he'd ever had to ask. In a few hours, she would be out of his life for good, and that realisation caused a piece of his heart and soul to die, as the agony of the reality hit him.

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><p><em>Thanks to <strong>melissaadams22<strong> for the reviews :) Hopefully will have several chapters for you guys to read today :)_


	8. Old City

Author's Note: sorry it's taken a few days, RL has been a b***h lately :( hope you enjoy, please review :) As before, ## for paragraph breaks :|

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><p>The large, reinforced Oak door of the Old City Sanctuary swung open to reveal Dr Helen Magnus and Dr Will Zimmerman, both smiling politely. Bigfoot, Kate and Henry were conspicuous by their absence but Declan figured Helen probably thought the best people to greet their new arrival would be herself and Will. One of Helen's finely shaped eyebrows rose fractionally as she took in the sight before her, and her eyes held a multitude of questions.<p>

"Welcome to Old City Morwenna," Helen greeted their guest, stepping back to invite her into the house.

"Wena," the abnormal replied, giving Helen a wan smile. As she went to step over the threshold, she stumbled and Declan grabbed her arm to steady her. She jerked her arm from his grasp, shooting him a look of pure hatred as she walked ahead, a single step behind Helen. Will closed the door and brought up the rear of the party, lightly touching Declan's arm in an indication of both support and query.

"So, what happened?" Will asked, as Declan took the hint and hung back. The two men walked in silence for a moment, listening to Helen as she gave the guided tour to Wena.

"She tried to do a runner at the airport mate, and I had to stop her," Declan replied quietly, his voice emotionless and his shoulders slumped. He wasn't his usual self and every compassionate molecule of Will's body wanted to know why, and how he could help his friend. While the men had not always seen eye to eye, their shared experiences had wiped away the animosity which Will had felt after Declan had been forced to investigate Helen on a murder charge. Since their experiences in India, Oldham and Carentan, among others, a strong friendship had developed between the two men and it hurt Will to see his friend so lost, so destroyed.

"You know you can talk to me, Declan," Will told him, not wanting to push the issue until the Brit was ready to talk.

"I know mate, thanks," Declan replied, giving Will a half-hearted smile. He saw the women had stopped outside the lift and hurried over, smiling sadly at Helen as she looked at him quizzically.

"I'm going to give Wena the guided tour. Do you want to join us or do you have other things to be getting on with?" Helen asked, her gaze flitting between the two men.

"If it's ok with you, I'm gonna grab a couple hours sleep," Declan told her, studiously avoiding looking at Wena. The look of hurt and betrayal that flashed across her face for the briefest moments caused his heart to contract but he maintained an outwardly calm demeanour.

"Of course," Helen agreed, her tone neutral. "Sleep well." She ushered Wena into the lift and started to tell her about the other residents, clearly seeing the look that passed between Declan and his former charge. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what had happened between them on their journey, and resolved to find out as soon as possible.

##

Declan woke with a start, the remnants of his dream still fresh in his mind. He could still feel the touch of Wena's hands on him as power coursed through his veins; hear the growling of the cat shifters and the sound of someone breathing quietly. He was beginning to wonder whether the shifters he'd met had been the threat Wena had be running from when she contacted him. Her comments about being "no better than _'them'_" had him worried, but he knew she was no longer his concern. He had willingly handed over custody and responsibility of her to Magnus, and he felt like he'd condemned her to death by doing so. Getting dressed, he resolved to try and talk with her before he left to return to London, wanting to try and clear the air before he walked out of her life, and she out of his.

##

Declan knocked on the solid oak door which led into the guest room which had been given to Wena until more permanent quarters could be made available. He heard her say _enter_ and opened the door, stepping in and closing it behind him quickly. He looked at her, standing in front of the window and staring out at the city, unaware perhaps of who had just entered her room.

"So, you're going home then?" she asked him without turning, her voice lifeless and her posture defeated.

"Yeah, I leave in a few minutes for the airport," he confirmed, his entire being aching to see her so destroyed and listless. "Wena..." he started, wanting to tell her this had all been a huge mistake and he was going to take her home, back to London, with him.

"Don't," she cautioned him, turning away from the window to face him. "You've already proven you have no honour, no integrity." He opened his mouth to dispute her accusations but she cut him off. "You've shown beyond doubt that you can't be trusted, that you are no different to those who wanted to use me for their own ends!"

"Now wait a minute, I saved you from them," he challenged, angry at her words, more so because in some ways he knew they were true.

"No! You saved me from a bunch of smelly, selfish shifters, nothing more! All you're doing by leaving me here is condemning me," she snarled at him, her voice beginning to rise.

"Condemning you to what? A cosy life where you have nothing to worry about all day?" he shouted back, his temper at breaking point.

"Is that what you think I have to look forward to?" she demanded, stunned by his ignorance.

"What the hell else is there to worry about? You're safe here," he snapped, the sinking feeling in his gut starting to grow at her words.

"Get out!" she ordered, spinning away from him to stare once more out of the window.

"Wena..." Declan said, not wanting to leave this way. He knew she had more to tell him, more to say about the danger she thought she faced, and now she wouldn't.

"GET OUT!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face as she hugged herself tightly. Before Declan could say another word, the door burst open to reveal Henry and Will, drawn by the raised voices. Declan knew there was nothing more he could do at that moment; all he could do was warn Magnus of the danger Wena believed herself to be in, and let the Old City team try to help her. With a last look at her, stood by the window with her eyes closed and her cheeks tear-stained, Declan turned on his heel and walked from the room.


	9. Initial Analysis

_**Old City Sanctuary – Infirmary**_

Wena sat in silence as Helen moved through the infirmary with quiet efficiency, readying what she would need to take the samples she required. Although she appeared outwardly calm and indifferent, the abnormal's silence worried her a little. She knew that the succubus and the London Head of House had a connection, and that something had happened at the airport which had strained their relationship. Declan had been unwilling to discuss it and Helen wasn't about to push him on the matter, knowing as she did his full, and sometimes dark, history.

"Wena, I'm going to take a little blood, OK?" Helen asked, coming to stand in front of the succubus. When no answer was forthcoming, she reached out and gently took hold of Wena's forearm, slipping a tourniquet above the elbow and tying it tightly. As she moved the needle towards the vein, Wena slowly looked up at her and Helen baulked, quickly clamping down on the rush of compassion that welled up inside her. Looking into Wena's eyes, Helen saw pain and suffering, the likes of which could not have been caused solely by Declan's actions. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but the look of desolation and resignation overrode everything else, and Helen felt her heart contract in sympathy. It was obvious now that the woman sat before her had spent years suffering; perhaps being used for her powers, or abused because of them. Even though things were difficult for them now, without the support of world governments and intelligence agencies, Helen vowed that she would not let Wena be used any longer.

"I'm just going to draw this blood, and then we'll get you settled into more permanent accommodation," Helen said softly, a gentle smile on her face. Wena nodded, her eyes dead and her shoulders slumped in defeat as she stared at the floor once more. Helen quickly and efficiently drew the blood she needed for her tests. She raised an eyebrow in surprise as she turned back to place a plaster over the puncture wound, only to discover that the area had completely healed.

"Right, let's get you settled shall we?" Helen suggested, her voice bright and happy as she tried to cheer up the succubus. Wena moved slowly off the hospital bed she had been sat on, following along behind as Helen led her towards the residences where she would be given her permanent lodgings.

####

_**London Sanctuary – Declan's bedroom**_

The early morning sunlight streamed in through a gap in the heavy brocade curtains, gently caressing Declan's face and slowly rousing him from a deep and dream filled sleep. Thoughts of Wena still filled his mind, the feel of her fingers stroking his face as clear as if she were there with him. The pain in his chest increased as his mind replayed their last moments together, tears welling in his eyes as he realised once more what he had lost. His flight home had touched down in the middle of the night, and dawn had been fast approaching by the time he made it back to the sanctuary. No matter how hard he tried, he could not rid his mind of the look of betrayal on Wena's face when they had boarded the aircraft.

He forced himself to rise from the comfort of his bed, his limbs heavy from a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. He dressed slowly, splashing cold water on his face more to wake himself than to wash. He had a lot to catch up on, for even though he knew his staff were more than capable of running the London sanctuary in his absence, there were things that only he could manage. With a sigh, and a heavy heart, he left his room and headed towards his office, wanting to see the security feed from the Old City sanctuary. He was so preoccupied, he didn't see the envelope on the floor near the door, half hidden in shadow.

####

**Old City Sanctuary – Will's Office**

Dr. Will Zimmerman sat quietly in his office, watching the newcomer as she paced around the room. Her movements had a feline grace to them, powerful and edgy, and Will was reminded of a panther caged in a zoo. He knew that Wena did not want to be there, and that she felt betrayed by Declan McCrae. As a psychologist, he also understood that her feelings of betrayal stemmed in part from the romantic feelings she had for Declan. Now all he had to do was get her to talk; to open up about her connection to Declan, her past and the danger she believed herself to be in. He knew that Declan would almost certainly be watching the feed, but that would not stop him from asking the questions he had to ask, in order to get his answers.

"Wena, why don't you take a seat?" Will suggested. He watched her closely as she stopped pacing and turned to look at him, her body frozen like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. Only his years of training stopped him from reacting as her eyes bored into him, making him wonder if she could indeed look into his very soul. Her eyes showed wisdom and pain far beyond her years, and it took all of his willpower not to speculate about what she had seen, or what she had been through. They remained in their frozen tableau for several minutes, as he waited for her to relax enough to be able to start building trust between them.

He hid a smile when she eventually moved, slipping cautiously into the comfortable leather armchair opposite him. As she drew her legs up against her chest, rested her chin on her knees and watched him warily, Will noticed that she was barefoot. Now that she had stopped pacing, he could clearly make out the bruises that covered her forearms. Faint beneath them, but clearly visible to his super observant eyes, lay the scars. Made by claw, teeth and knife, they criss-crossed her arms, hands and feet; layer upon layer of assault and abuse. For the briefest moment, he wondered if perhaps he was out of his depth, but knew that Helen would not have given him this task if she did not believe he could do it. He sat quietly, waiting patiently for her to start talking, knowing that she had to take the first step before they could begin.

####

_**London Sanctuary - Declan's Office**_

Declan McCrae, former SAS soldier and head of the London sanctuary, sat in his office and stared at his laptop screen, fighting back the tears. He watched as Will began to coax Wena out of her shell, getting her to start talking about what she had been through. It had taken him 3 hours before she had said her first word, and it had nearly broken Declan's heart that the first word she said was his name. The emotion in that single word had brought tears to Declan's eyes, and he knew with a clarity he had never before experienced that he had made a mistake by allowing her to leave. Gradually Will had managed to coax her into elaborating and she slowly began to share the information that Helen and her team would need to know. He learned that Wena was nearly one hundred and fifty years old, and that she had seen much during her lifetime. From wealthy noblewoman to slave, governess to Madame of a Wild West brothel, she had experienced life from all angles.

By the time Wena and Will finished talking for the day, night had long since fallen over London. As he tried to process everything he had seen and heard, Declan stretched to relieve aching muscles held in one position for far too long. Glancing at the clock, he was not surprised at the late hour displayed and decided that a good night's sleep was in order. Closing his laptop he stood and slowly left his office, lost in thought as he ambled back to his bedroom. Entering the room, he closed the door behind him and flicked on the light, noticing at last the envelope on the floor. He bent down and picked it up, drawing in a sharp breath as he turned it over and saw his name written on the front, instantly recognizing the handwriting. Stripping off his clothes, he left them in an untidy heap as he slid into bed, pulling the covers up around him and turning out the main light. Lighting the candle which sat beside his bed, Declan broke the seal and gingerly removed a single sheet of parchment from the envelope. Unfolding it he lay down and began to read:

_Declan,  
>I'll be leaving soon, exiled to Old City and banished from your presence. In some ways I do understand why you're sending me away, but that doesn't make the parting any easier to bear. I reached out to you because we have had a connection since the day you were born, I saved your life that day, after all. I've lost count of the number of times I've saved your life over the years, safe in the knowledge that when I needed you, you would save mine too.<em>

_I know you Declan, I know your deepest darkest secrets and I've kept them for you. I know that you're a good man, which is why I didn't fear you when you rescued me from the shape shifters. I know I shouldn't have pushed you when we got back here, but I've loved you for so long that no other thought occupied my mind than being in your embrace._

_By the time you read this, I'll be several thousand miles away and out of your life forever. Distance enough perhaps, for me to tell the truth that I kept hidden from you when you rebuffed me. You cannot hurt me, physically, in the way that you hurt Claire. Unlike human women, who are so fragile in so many ways, neither your size nor any loss of control on your part could hurt me if we had taken the next step into a sexual encounter._

_Be well, Declan. I hope that when the time comes, you do not blame yourself for what happens. _

_I Love you Declan. I always have. Remember that, after I'm gone._

_Wena xx_

Tears flowed as Declan held the parchment tightly to his chest, the full realisation of what he had lost hitting him like a bomb blast. For years he had avoided getting into a relationship with anyone, for fear of hurting them physically, as he had inadvertently done with Claire. And now, after sending her away, he realised that in Wena he had found the one woman with whom he would not have had to worry about such things. He curled himself into a ball, sobbing as he released the pain and anguish he felt, eventually drifting off into a troubled sleep, filled with visions of Wena's death.


	10. Observation and Experimentation

_**A/N: This is set during season 4 but before Will gets "called back" to the FBI :) As always, please review if you want me to continue :)**_

_**Warning: Suggestions of possible f/f encounter... ;)**_

_**.**_

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><p><em><strong>Old City Sanctuary – Helen's Study<strong>_

Helen Magnus, medical doctor and head of the sanctuary network, leant back in the comfortable leather chair pulled close to her desk and watched the images from the various cameras around her sanctuary. It was a ritual she performed several times a day, to satisfy herself that all was well with her residents. Three weeks had passed since Wena had arrived with them, and Helen was no nearer to understanding who, or what, she had given sanctuary to. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of the many phone calls and emails she had received from Declan since he had delivered Wena to of them. Although she would never mention it, Helen knew how much of an effect Wena had had on her London head of house, and she was determined to make the pair work out their issues. Looking again at the monitors, her gaze came to rest once more on the images of Wena in her room. Since her initial discussion with Will, the succubus had become withdrawn and reticent, showing no interest in anyone or anything around her.

The blood tests that Helen had run had proved inconclusive, giving conflicting results each time they were processed. Something which did worry her was the presence of vampire DNA in Wena's blood. A horrifying notion had occurred to her; perhaps Wena had, during any period of captivity she had experienced, been experimented on. It was a notion that Helen quickly dismissed, for unlike those who had injected the source blood, the DNA strands in Wena's makeup seemed to be native. That very fact alone suggested to Helen that whoever sired Wena had had dormant vampire DNA. As the world's foremost expert on the extinct vampire species, Nikola Tesla would be able to help Helen identify Wena's origins, and so she had sent out a message asking for his help.

To the best of her knowledge, a pure blood succubus had no trace of vampire DNA, nor was telepathy an ability they possessed. As far as she knew, vampires also possessed no telepathic ability and yet Wena did. The abnormal was proving to be an interesting and challenging puzzle, but one that Helen was determined to solve. Her scientific curiosity was piqued by the knowledge of the seduction scent which Declan had told her about, something else that a pure blood succubus did not possess. Drumming the fingers of her right hand against her wooden desk, Helen planned out how to investigate the phenomenon further.

####

_**London Sanctuary – Declan's Office**_

Declan jotted a few notes on the final page of the report he was reviewing and closed the folder, placing it on top of the pile of identical folders. It had been a long morning and he was glad that he had finally finished his current workload, for it meant that he could now settle down and watch the security feeds from Old City. When he first woke each morning, before he started work, he watched the live feed which usually consisted of Wena getting ready for bed. He knew his behaviour wasn't entirely proper but he could not resist watching her, for each night when he went to bed his dreams were filled with her. His nights, in his dreams, were spent with her, tasting her, touching her; buried deep within her as their bodies, minds and souls joined and became one. As hours became days, and days had become weeks since she'd left, he began to understand just what he had given up.

He opened his laptop and logged on to the system, entering the security code that would allow him access to all the video feeds. Although he wasn't supposed to know, Declan was aware that he was the only other head of house who had access to the camera feeds to every sanctuary around the world. He knew that his assistant David, one of the werewolves freed from Oldham who had joined his staff, had arrived in Old City a few hours before. He carried with him a letter from Declan addressed to Wena, in which the London head of house attempted to apologise for his actions. Shaking his head, he focused once more on the camera feeds and could only stare, stunned, by what he saw happening before him.

#####

_**Old City Sanctuary – Wena's Room**_

Wena did not look up, or even acknowledge, when the British HAP David walked into her room and closed the door behind him. He walked slowly across the room and gently sat on the end of the bed opposite her, not making a sound as he waited for her to look up. When she finally made eye contact with him, he still didn't speak but simply handed her the envelope that Declan had given him. As she broke the seal and drew the parchment out of the envelope, David remained where he was, waiting for her to read the words his boss had written. She hungrily devoured the words that Declan had penned; her face, which had been devoid of emotion since her arrival, showed a gamut of emotions as she read and re-read the letter she had long been waiting for. What she had not realized, however, was that as she released the emotions she had kept bottled up for so long, she was also inadvertently secreting what Magnus had termed 'the seduction scent'.

David's long fingers, gently stroking her bare foot, immediately pulled Wena back to the present. She looked up, locking gazes with the young werewolf and carefully re-folded Declan's letter, placing it under her pillow to read again later. Suddenly feeling the need for physical contact, which she had steered away from for many years, she allowed her scent to permeate the room, encouraging David to move closer. As if his fogged mind had momentarily cleared, and he realised what he was doing, the young HAP stood suddenly and took several steps away from the bed, as if distance from Wena could lessen her pull over him. He didn't realise that as long as he remained in the room, her scent would affect him. Kneeling provocatively on the bed, she beckoned the young werewolf to come closer. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to fight against her inviting summons, David closed the distance between them, gathering her into his arms and kissing her gently. She responded with a passion and hunger that surprised and stunned him, and he fought to remain in control as his own desires raged within him.

####

_**London Sanctuary – Declan's Office**_

Declan's stared in disbelief at the images from the security camera feeds, watching as Wena seduced his young assistant. When he had sent David to Old City, he had not even thought of the possibility that what was now happening, could ever take place. Unable to look away, he watched in growing pain as the inexperienced HAP made love to the woman Declan was falling in love with. His heart constructed as David left the room, and he watched Wena curl into a ball and begin to cry. Holding back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, as he saw Wena reach beneath her pillow and withdraw his letter, he reached for the phone and hit the speed dial for Helens private number. It rang only twice before Helen answered.

"What can I do for you, Declan?" she asked, her tone polite but colder than usual.

"Magnus," he began, struggling to keep his anger in check. "What on earth is going on over there? Why he was David in Wena's room?"

"That is none of your concern, Declan," she answered him brusquely.

"Like hell it's not," he argued, his voice rising slightly. "I sent her to you, for you to find out what she is, and how to protect her; not for you to play games with her and use her in such a way!"

"Declan," she replied, her tone kinder than before. "In order to ascertain the full extent of what she is, I need to know how her power affects different groups."

"I'm not sure I understand," Declan confessed.

"We know the scent she emits worked on humans," Helen told him. "What I need to know, is whether it works on abnormals as well. With David being a HAP, it seemed the ideal opportunity to test that theory."

"Well, now that you know," he continued. "Could you please ensure it doesn't happen again?"

"I'm sorry, Declan," she replied. "But I still need to know the full extent of her power."

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Who else is there for you to experiment with?"

"I still need to know," she explained. "Whether her power has any effect on those with source blood, or vampire DNA."

"Now wait just a minute Magnus," he objected angrily. "You cannot subject her to Tesla or Druitt."

"As neither of them are here," she informed him calmly. "I would be unable to do so. Nor would I, even if either of them were here."

"Then how do you intend to find out?" he asked, confused. When he got only silence from the other end of the line, he wondered momentarily if they had been disconnected. It took a few moments for her words, and the meaning behind them, to finally sink in and when they did, he gasped in shock. "Do you mean...?"

"Yes, Declan," she confirmed, keeping her voice even, as she suppressed the smile. "I do indeed."

"Oh," was his only reply, as the obvious thoughts popped into his mind. He knew better than to ask whether the camera in Wena's room would remain active during her little experiment.

"Now," she said calmly. "If there's nothing else?"

"No, no, nothing at all," he confirmed, managing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Then I'll bid you goodnight, Declan," she replied. "After all, I have more tests to run."

"Yes of course," Declan said. "Good night Magnus." As he hung up the phone, a smile spread across his lips. Slipping the laptop under his arm, he headed towards his bedroom, fully intending to be as comfortable and private as possible while he watched Helen test that theory.

* * *

><p><em>So, that gives some interesting mental images LOL :p<em>


	11. Discoveries

_**Author's Note**__: It's been a long time since my muse gave me any ideas for this one but, having re-read it last night, I kinda remember where I want to go with it :)_

_**Disclaimer**__: Don't own anything but Wena and the bad guys :)_

**11. Discoveries**

_**Old City Sanctuary – Wena's Room**_

Wena sat quietly on the small bed in her room, clutching the letter Declan had sent her and going over it in her mind. She had read it so many times now that she could recite it word perfect. She glanced up at the corner of her room, wondering if he was watching her today, as she knew he had been recently. A blush rose on her cheeks as she thought of what he must have witnessed recently, especially considering what had happened with David and Helen. She knew that the Sanctuary founder was experimenting with her powers and, while she understood the reasons, she wasn't overly happy about having to perform like some circus freak. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she wondered whether Declan still wanted to be with her, given what had happened with the others. She knew that, if she really tried, she could probably get past the defences of the Sanctuary and go to him, but it would mean revealing more of her abilities.

)()()()()()(

_**Old City Sanctuary – Helen's Study**_

Helen Magnus, Head of the Sanctuary network and 150 year old scientist, sat at her desk and mused about recent events. She had been more than mildly surprised when Wena had agreed to her experiments, and stunned by the results. Most succubae emitted a subtle pheromone that attracted a male to them to be fed upon, but Wena was different. Her ability, which Declan had quite accurately termed her 'seduction scent', was much more concentrated and controlled that a normal succubus. Helen had been interested to find out that Wena could turn the ability on and off at will, whereas a normal succubus could not control her pheromones. She was also amazed to find that Wena did not feed off her partners, although she did take some small measure of their natural energy to replenish hers.

The experiment where she had used herself as the guinea pig, however, was by far the most intriguing. She had been completely unprepared for the surge of desire that had shot through her when they began their experiment. Having only ever come into contact with regular succubae, she was not prepared for Wena's power to work on her at all, let alone with such intensity. The encounter had lasted all night and had been utterly satisfying for both women, but it had produced more questions than answers. Allowing her mind to wander back, she studied her own reactions to the mysterious woman and her fascinating gifts.

)()()()()()()(

_**London Sanctuary – Declan's Study**_

Declan leant back in his chair, his attention distracted by the video feed on his laptop. It now constantly showed the feed from Wena's room, with others available if he required them. His heart broke each time he looked at the woman, who had captured him heart and soul, looking so desolate. He had watched in aroused awe as she had seduced Helen, unable to tear his eyes from the screen as the two women explored Wena's gift. He ached to fly over to Old City and bring her home, making her his mate for life but knew he couldn't. Helen had been correct when she had mentioned the fact that there was no policy against inter-work fraternisation, but he still felt it would be inappropriate for him to be involved with an abnormal under his care.

And then there was the other issue...

No matter what she said to him, his self loathing over the incident with Claire had been with him too long for him to believe her words. And yet, she said she knew all about what had happened, that she had been watching over him all his life...

Of course, that raised its own questions, especially about whether it had been an accident that he and Helen had crossed paths. With so much to think over, he turned back to his paperwork, watching the video feed from the corner of his eye as he got on with the day to day running of the London Sanctuary.

)()()()()()()()(

_**Old City Sanctuary – Infirmary**_

Helen sat in front of the infirmary computer, unable to believe the results that were flashing on screen at her. The results of the blood analysis and DNA breakdown were easy to read; she had done the tests so many times that she knew most variations of results. What she could see now, though, was completely unexpected and she was at a loss for words.

"Helen, what the hell does this mean?" Declan demanded, his voice slightly distorted by the speaker of phone.

"I'm not entirely sure, Declan, but it would appear that our guest has source blood..." Helen mused, thinking it ironic that their newest addition was continuing to surprise her.

"But how?" the Brit exclaimed, stunned by the most recent revelation.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out and that means I need to speak to Tesla..." she sighed, not sure she was ready for another bout of Nikola in her home...


End file.
